


Patience is Power

by true_alpha



Series: Hot For Teacher [4]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Aftercare, Alternate Universe - Human, Anal Plug, Anal Sex, Begging, Coming Untouched, Dom/sub, M/M, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Subspace
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-13
Updated: 2014-06-13
Packaged: 2018-02-04 11:17:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1777132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/true_alpha/pseuds/true_alpha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They say that good things come to those who wait. But if Derek doesn't let Stiles come, like, yesterday, he's going to explode from sexual frustration.</p><p>Part four of my series, but can be read alone!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Patience is Power

Stiles chokes on a whimper as Derek's fingers brush across his prostate. His legs are shaking, have been for a while, and he can't stop it. Derek hasn't let Stiles come in more than a week, and he's incredibly sensitive as a result. Derek, the bastard, has been exploiting that for the better part of what feels like a century to Stiles.

“I know you can do this, Stiles,” Derek says lowly. “You've been so good for me all week. You can last a little while longer.” 

“Please, Derek, please, _please_ ,” Stiles slurs back. “I'm a good boy. Please let me come, Derek, please, I need it, please!” 

“You're a very good boy. That's why I know you can last a little longer.” 

Stiles whines. His arms collapse so that he's completely face down on the mattress, the only thing holding his hips in the air being Derek's firm grip. When Derek pulls his fingers out and lets Stiles go, the younger man falls, boneless, against the mattress. He whimpers when the sheets rubs against his hard cock. 

“Don't move,” Derek orders. He levers up off the bed and walks away. 

Stiles wouldn't rub against the sheets even if he had been given permission. At this point, the line between pain and pleasure is starting to blur. He'd rather have Derek's hands on him, rubbing his cock and just letting him come already. 

Derek returns only a minute later. He sits beside Stiles, but the younger man doesn't bother turning to look at him. He just hopes that whatever Derek has, it's something to help him come. 

“Hold still,” Derek murmurs. He puts a hand on Stiles' ass cheek, pulling him open. Stiles' hole is puffy and pink from almost an hour of being teased open by Derek's fingers. Maybe the teasing did go on a little too long, especially considering that Derek hasn't let Stiles come in so long, but fuck, Stiles just opens so easy under his touch, so hot and willing and needy. 

At the cool press of plastic against his searing hot hole, Stiles lurches forward. Derek drags him back and continues to press the plug in, completely unrelenting. Stiles squirms and whines the whole while, but Derek doesn't hush him. He's too selfish, too desperate to hear the sounds Stiles makes. 

The base of the plug settles flush against Stiles skin. Derek taps it a few times, making the tip brush against Stiles' prostate. At each tap, Stiles lets out a strangled sob and jumps forward. 

“Time for you to take a shower,” Derek says abruptly. “A cold one. No touching your cock in there.” 

It takes a minute for the words to sink in. Stiles rolls over, looking at Derek with wide, scandalized eyes. He's got tear tracks down his face and his bottom lip is completely swollen from how he's been gnawing on it. Derek has to bite his own lip to hold back a swear. 

“I don't get to come?” He sounds downright betrayed. 

“If you're good during the party, I'll take out the plug and fuck you when we get home. You can come then.” 

Stiles' jaw drops. “I have to go to the party like this?” The flush on his face no longer has anything to do with pleasure. “But–!” 

“If you want, I can take the plug out and it'll be another week until you can come.” Stiles' jaw snaps shut. Derek's lips twitch. “That's what I thought.” 

“I hate you,” Stiles grumbles. “You're an evil, sadistic, cock-blocking Adonis and I _hate_ you.” 

Derek just chuckles. He slaps Stiles' ass as he stands up. “I'm going to shower and jerk off in the guest bathroom. You, however, are not allowed to touch your cock. Do you understand, Stiles?” 

Stiles groans. “You had to tell me that?” he says. “Now all I can think about is you jerking off, water running down all over your body.... Fuck, Derek!” 

“Well, I _had_ considered making you watch me, but I changed my mind.” Derek raises an eyebrow at him. “Would you like me to change it again?” 

“No,” Stiles mumbles. “I still hate you, though.” 

“Sure you do. Now hurry up and go shower. We need to leave by six.” 

  


Stiles had, for some stupid reason, thought that Scott would jump in and takes steps to ensure that his and Allison's engagement party wouldn't completely suck ass. He should've known that Scott was too whipped to speak up. 

It's at some fancy country club that Allison's parents have been members at for years. The food's alright, even though the sandwiches are tiny. Everyone's dressed up and the atmosphere is so stuffy that Stiles actually feels like someone has him in a choke hold. 

Derek, though, seems to be having the time of his life. He's been nursing a fine aged whiskey for the better part of an hour and chatting about stupid, boring grown-up things like stocks and politics with other stupid, boring grown-ups. Stiles doesn't even know who any of these people are. It's been a while since he saw anyone he actually knows; Derek didn't let him sneak off to do shots with Lydia, and she's since disappeared into the men's room with a good-looking Argent cousin. 

“I swear you're actually an eighty-five year old man,” Stiles grumbles as he downs his wine in a single gulp. It gets him a disapproving look from a nearby woman – Allison's great-aunt something or other – and he smiles sickly sweet and obviously mockingly back at her. Derek's hand falls suddenly to the back of his neck. 

“I thought I told you to be good tonight?” he says quietly. 

“You try being civil with something stuck up your ass,” Stiles snarks back. Derek chuckles. “You're enjoying yourself way too much.” 

“We don't buy good alcohol like this,” Derek replies, sipping his whiskey as if to amplify his point. 

“Dude, what's wrong with Heineken? Besides, you _know_ that's not what I was talking about.” 

Derek just smiles and sets his empty glass down on the nearby bar. “If you can make it another hour, I'll blow you when we get home,” he promises quietly. 

That gives Stiles pause. Derek doesn't get as much out of giving blow jobs as Stiles does – although he does love to eat out Stiles' ass whenever he can. Stiles doesn't really mind; if Derek's not into it, then he's not into it. It's not like he's lacking for sex. So the blow jobs Stiles gets are few and far between and, well, fucking incredible, to put it mildly. Derek likes to reserve them for rewards because, nine times out of ten, Stiles ends up crying by the end of the blow job. 

“And I can come?” Stiles asks hopefully. He doesn't care that other people could definitely be eavesdropping right now; fuck them, he hasn't come in nine days (nine days, two hours, and twenty-one minutes, to be exact, but hey, who's counting?). He's desperate. 

“Not until I fuck you,” Derek murmurs back, almost fondly. He drops a kiss on Stiles' forehead and keeps his lips there as he continues, “Now be a good boy so I don't have to spank you when we get home. That would put such a damper on the night I have planned.” 

Stiles shivers. Derek always has the best plans. “I can be good,” he says weakly. 

“I know you can. Now stop being such a little shit and make nice with the stiffs.” 

Stiles has to bite back a scowl and a “you're so one of those stiffs” comment because he's pretty sure it would get him in trouble. Derek smiles knowingly down at him and waves the bartender over to order another glass of whiskey. 

“Be good for me,” he murmurs. “Don't forget what I've told you.” 

  


Since getting shitfaced isn't an option, Stiles instead steals sips of Derek's whiskey. Stiles doesn't like it as much as Derek does, but since Derek made Stiles' wine incident his last drink of the night, stealing some of Derek's drink seems like the best option. Besides, Derek isn't admonishing him for it, and he wants to get away with whatever he can. Not being able to come for so long is making him feel more rebellious than usual. 

The hour passes slowly. Every time Stiles thinks at least five minutes have passed, it's usually more like thirty seconds. 

They're in conversation with a group of people, two sides of Allison's family who apparently get off on disagreeing with each other. Derek's passed his drink off to Stiles; he has one hand in his pocket and the other settled on Stiles' waist. Stiles idly swirls the glass, watching the ice clink against the sides and the whiskey slosh around. It's a hell of a lot more interesting than whatever everyone else is talking about. 

When the group is too busy arguing to notice them, Derek leans down to press his lips to the shell of Stiles' ear and murmurs, “I have a surprise for you.” 

Stiles turns curiously to him. Derek does his almost little half smile before– 

Stiles jolts and drops the glass, sending the tumbler to the floor with a crash. 

“It's alright, it happens!” says Allison's uncle, waving over a waiter. “They'll clean it right up. Another whiskey?” 

Stiles shakes his head and manages to stammer out a “no.” The young woman beside Allison's uncle cocks her head, frowning at him. 

“Are you alright, Miles?” she asks, much too sweetly to actually care. “You're quite red.” 

“Fine,” Stiles chokes out. “Swallowed wrong.” 

Derek's frowning at him, ever the picture of a concerned boyfriend, and Stiles glowers murderously back at him. The plug in his ass was distracting enough, but fuck, the thing has to vibrate now, too? 

“Let's get you some water to sip on,” Derek says. “Excuse us.” 

He plants his hand firmly on Stiles' back and guides him away. They aren't even heading towards the bar, but no one seems to notice anyways. Someone gives a vague, “Bye Darren, bye Giles,” as the couple weaves their way towards the hall. 

Once they're out of the room and down the hall, Derek takes Stiles' hand and guides him down a flight of stairs. Stiles doesn't ask where they're going, too distracted by the buzzing plug and the great view of Derek's ass. 

Somehow, Derek unerringly finds a bathroom in a less busy area of the building. Derek pulls Stiles inside and pushes him towards the chaise beside the door ( _country clubs, man_ , Stiles can't help but think, _why the fuck is this thing in here?_ ). Derek checks that there's no one else in the restroom before he locks the door and rounds on Stiles. 

There's no other word for the way Derek moves but _predatory_. The hungry gleam in his eyes should make Stiles want to run for the hills; instead, he moans and spreads his legs. 

“I wanted to see how long you could last with it vibrating,” Derek rumbles. “Apparently, not very long at all. I'm a little disappointed.” 

Derek drops gracelessly onto the chaise, his knees on either side of Stiles. The younger man leans back and bares his neck, hoping to entice Derek in some long awaited action. 

Derek chuckles as he slides his nose along the pale column of Stiles' neck. Stiles sighs and twists even further, and Derek takes the invitation to suckle a mark right on the side of Stiles' neck, just below his jawline. 

“I thought you were going to take me home?” Stiles manages to say. Derek doesn't answer, just turns Stiles' head so he can get to the other side of Stiles' neck. “What's with the – _ngh_ – vampire act? Not that – _ahh!_ – n–not that I'm complaining – _ohh_ , Derek, right there...!” 

“Stiles,” Derek says, fond exasperation clear in his voice. “Shut up.” 

“No can do, not if you keep this up!” Stiles replies in a sigh. Derek's lips slide up to the shell of his ear. He takes the lobe between his teeth and bites down gently, just enough to get Stiles to let out another shaky groan. 

“Shut up,” Derek repeats evenly, “because if you make a noise, I'm going to stop. Any questions?” Stiles opens his mouth, catches himself, and then shakes his head. Derek chuckles warmly. “Good boy.” 

Stiles never realized that he had such a kink for manhandling until he'd met Derek. Now, though, whenever Derek just picks Stiles up and moves him whichever way he pleases, a thrill runs down Stiles' spine. Now is certainly no exception. 

Derek pushes Stiles into the corner of the chaise so he's half slumped down it. That done, he slides off and onto the floor, sinking to his knees between Stiles' splayed legs. Stiles wants desperately to be good, but the sight alone of Derek on his knees is enough to make him moan. The hands undoing his belt pause; Derek shoots him an unamused look. 

“I'll let one slide,” he says, “only because we don't do this often. One more, though, and we're done. Okay?” 

Stiles nods frantically. He spreads his legs and lifts his hips, hoping that Derek will get on with it. Derek appraises him for one more long minute before he gets back to it. 

He makes short work of undoing Stiles' belt, and then pulling his pants and underwear down in one go. He leaves them around Stiles' thighs, just enough room for Derek to get to Stiles' cock. 

He's hard already, has been since Derek pulled him away from the party. The faint buzzing from the plug still in Stiles' ass fills the otherwise silent bathroom, making Derek smirk. He twists the base and smirks wider when Stiles bites down on his knuckle to hold in a noise. 

Derek wraps a hand around Stiles' cock and starts jerking him. He doesn't bother with any teasing, all solid strokes and a quick twist of the wrist at the head of his cock. Stiles squirms and writhes, but manages to somehow keep quiet. 

Then, though, Derek drops his hand and pinches the base of Stiles' cock. He leans in, his lips just brushing the head, when his tongue flicks out and licks away a bead of pre-come. Stiles' hips jackknife sharply, and Derek pulls back, shooting him an unamused look. 

“Be patient,” he orders. 

_Nine days!_ Stiles wants to yell at him. Derek leans back down and takes Stiles in his mouth, halfway in one go, and the thought is wiped away as quickly as it had come. 

Derek doesn't mess around with blow jobs. He isn't much for teasing, tentative little licks and sucks. No, Derek is a fucking Hoover with his blow jobs. He takes Stiles almost to the root, barely gagging but taking it in stride when he does. Stiles laments that they don't do this more often. 

Derek pulls off Stiles' cock, his lips red and shiny, and ducks down without preamble. He takes one of Stiles' balls in his mouth and sucks. Stiles has to bite down on his knuckle again to hold back a shout. 

“Be good for me,” Derek says as he pulls back. Then, he pushes Stiles' hips up and runs his tongue along Stiles' perineum. 

Stiles can't help but whimper. The plug and Derek's tongue is more than enough to push him into coming – or it would be, if he were allowed already. Derek hears the noise and pulls back with a frown. 

“I'm sorry, I'm sorry,” he slurs. “I'll be good, I promise, please don't stop, Derek, please, I'm sorry–” 

“I gave you an extra chance,” Derek says lightly. He pulls Stiles' boxers and pants back up, carefully tucking Stiles' still hard cock away. “But you weren't too bad tonight. I'll let you come when we get home.” 

Stiles whimpers again, wiggling against the chaise. “Derek? Please?” he begs. “Please, you said I was good, Derek, I need it, _please_....” 

Derek does up Stiles' pants and pulls him up. He presses a chaste kiss to Stiles forehead and reaches for his pocket. The buzzing stops, and Stiles doesn't know whether to be relieved or disappointed. 

“I don't want to hear a sound from you on our way home, okay?” Derek says quietly. “I promise it'll be worth it. You trust me?” Stiles nods. “Color?” 

Stiles hesitates before he holds one finger up, their nonverbal sign for “green.” Derek smiles at him, a full, big smile this time, and it fills Stiles' belly with warmth to know that he's made Derek proud. 

“You're so good for me, Stiles,” he murmurs. He presses one last lingering kiss to Stiles' lips before he takes Stiles' hand and leads the way out of the bathroom. 

Stiles is still achingly hard in his slacks. The plug shifts inside of him with every step and the fabric of his underwear rubs his dick, making it hard to stay quiet. Every once in a while, he has to push Derek to be pushed himself, has to rebel a bit, _needs_ to be put in his place. More often, though, he needs Derek's soft smile, his quiet, reassuring words, his firm guidance. Derek always knows exactly what Stiles needs. 

Once in the car, Stiles folds his hand in his lap and bows his head. He can feel Derek's eyes on him and worries for a brief, panicked second that he's somehow done something wrong. He just wants to be good for Derek. 

Derek doesn't say anything as he reaches in his pocket and drops a tiny remote in the cup holder. Stiles stares at it. 

“I thought about turning it on for the ride home,” Derek says, “but you're being so good for me. Do you want it on, Stiles?” 

Stiles glances up, shakes his head, and drops his gaze again. One of Derek's hands clasps Stiles' knee and squeezes once. He takes his hand back, starts up the car, and they're finally heading home. 

The drive passes by fast, miraculously. Stiles trails after Derek from the car to the lobby and into the elevator. Once the metal doors slide closed, Derek puts his hand on Stiles shoulder until the younger man obediently sinks to his knees. 

Derek says nothing. He keeps his hand on Stiles' shoulder, his thumb stroking idly back and forth. Stiles leans against Derek's hip, his face half-pressed into the fabric of Derek's slacks. When the elevator finally reaches their floor, Derek takes his hand back, and Stiles stands. They're both silent as they make their way into their apartment. 

Derek toes off his shoes and tosses the keys in the bowl by the door. Stiles stands idly, waiting for instructions. The silent car ride has grounded him considerably, although he's still a bit shaky from the plug and how long he's been hard. 

“Take off your clothes,” Derek orders. Stiles doesn't hesitate to strip, dropping his clothes right there in the entryway. Derek watches him silently, and Stiles hastens to get naked so he can get his next order. 

Once all the clothes are on a pile on the floor, Stiles stands with his hands at his sides and his eyes on the ground. Derek nudges his sock clad foot against the pile. 

“Go throw these in the hamper,” he says. “Wait on the bed when you're done.” 

Stiles scoops up his clothes without a word. His gait is somewhat limp, considering the plug in his ass the the erection bobbing almost comically between his legs, but Derek looks as though he's ever seen anything more sexy. 

Stiles dumps the clothes in the laundry hamper before turning to the bed. He climbs on and settles on his knees with his ass resting on his ankles. It takes a minute or two to find a position that doesn't jar the plug too much, but when he (mercifully) does, he settles down, his hands on his thighs and his head inclined. 

Derek doesn't take very long to join him. He strips down to his boxers silently, no show about it, and then crosses to and stands at the foot of the bed. 

“On your back,” he says quietly. “I want you to play with the plug. Don't touch your cock.” 

Stiles carefully lays back, supporting his back against the pillows. He bends his knees, plants his feet flat on the bed, and hesitantly reaches a hand between his legs. He wraps his spindly fingers around the base, bites his lips, and throws a hesitant look up at Derek. 

“I get to come?” he asks meekly. 

Derek's mouth twitches. “Soon,” is all he says. “Now stop stalling.” 

Stiles says nothing, a testament to just how far he's dropped. He tightens his grip around the plug and slowly, methodically, pulls it out. When just the tip is pressed against the rim of his hole, he pushes it back it fast. He cries out, arching against the bed, and quickly starts a rhythm; almost all the way out, back in, writhe, repeat. Derek appreciates the precession. Stiles is usually so graceless, but not with this – never with this. 

He's obviously close already – not that Derek can really blame him. Stiles' breath is coming in hitching gasps, and his eyes are clenched tightly closed. A ruddy flush spreads from his cheeks, down to his neck and chest. Ragged moans and whimpers tear from his throat. 

“Stiles,” Derek says suddenly. “Take the plug out and open your eyes.” 

With a groan, Stiles reluctantly pulls the plug out. After a beat, his eyes open. They're bleary and unfocused, his pupils blown wide with lust. 

“Are you close?” Derek asks, his voice low and heady. Stiles takes a minute to process the question, and then nods and licks his lips. Derek smiles. “Can you tell me your color?” 

“Green,” Stiles replies obediently. He says nothing else, and keeps his gaze trained on Derek. Finally, Derek is sure that Stiles is in the head space he craves. He's no longer questioning, just taking his orders and fulfilling them like the good boy he is. 

“You were so good for me tonight.” Derek finally gets on the bed, going to his knees between Stiles' spread legs. “I was worried you wouldn't behave yourself. You did, though... for the most part.” 

He lays a hand on the inside of Stiles' thigh and rubs it soothingly, drawing a whine from Stiles. Derek's fingers trail slowly up, to the crease where Stiles' thigh meets his groin. Stiles whimpers and wiggles, but Derek pulls his hand back and slaps his thigh. 

“I want you still,” he says. He waits for Stiles to settle before putting his hand back. He starts inside of Stiles' thigh again and trails back up. He lets his fingers brush across Stiles' balls, drawn up tight. Stiles whimpers, but manages to hold still. Derek gives him another smile. 

“So good,” he praises. His fingers glide down between the creamy, pale cheeks of Stiles' ass. The pads of his fingers rub just slightly against Stiles' hole, just enough to tease. The sound Stiles makes is something between a groan and a wail. Still, he doesn't move. 

“Think you're open enough for me to fuck you?” Derek asks. He presses one finger into Stiles' hole smoothly. “Did the plug open you up enough for my cock?” 

“I'm open,” Stiles slurs back. “Gonna fuck me? Please?” 

Derek chuckles and pulls his fingers back. “I'm going to fuck you,” he assures. He stretches up along Stiles' body to reach the bedside table, where the lube and condoms are stored. Stiles turns his head towards Derek, his pink lips parted and his eyes pleading. 

After grabbing the supplies and shutting the drawer, Derek obliges and leans down for a kiss. Stiles is slow and lazy with, more than happy to let Derek lead him. When Derek pulls back, Stiles whines and tries to follow him. Derek chuckles warmly and gives him one more quick kiss. 

“I'm going to fuck you now, okay?” he murmurs, slipping on the condom. “Color?” 

As soon as Stiles slurs out, “Green,” Derek takes Stiles' legs and hoists them over his shoulders. Stiles bends his legs obligingly, making sure they won't slip off Derek's sculpted shoulders. Derek grips the backs of Stiles' thighs and pulls him closer. With one hand, he spreads Stiles' ass, and with the other, he guides his cock to Stiles' winking pink hole and steadily presses in. 

Stiles moans, his eyes flutter shut, and his head falls back against the pillow. Derek presses in with slow, steady thrusts, until he's finally buried balls deep. He takes in a deep breath so as not to lose control. 

He waits until Stiles starts squirming to pull back and thrust in again, all at an agonizingly slow pace. Each snap of his hips is unhurried and lazy, and Stiles sobs with each one. He presses his hips back, obviously wanting it faster, but Derek's pace doesn't falter. 

“Problem?” he asks. 

“I – I want – Derek, please, faster, need it faster.” 

Derek pauses with his cock buried to the root. He lets Stiles' legs drop to the mattress and leans up, draping himself across Stiles' body again. He presses slow kisses to Stiles' lips, hoping to get him calmed down a bit. Instead, Stiles tries to take control, to make the kiss more sensual than sweet. Derek nips at Stiles' lower lip and chuckles at the whine it creates. 

“Don't you like it slow?” he asks teasingly, grinding his hips. 

“Need it faster,” Stiles whimpers back. “Please, I can't come like this...!” 

“Oh, Stiles,” Derek murmurs. “Of course you can.” 

He keeps his body pressed against Stiles as he resumes fucking into Stiles. He can't really move in the position, can't get the same depth; more than anything, it's a slow bump and grind, with Stiles' cock trapped between their bellies. 

Derek buries his face in the crook of Stiles' neck and sucks love bites into the pale column of Stiles' throat. Stiles lets out low groans and keening whimpers, but with friction on his cock, he seems to have calmed down a bit. 

When Derek pulls back a few long minutes later, Stiles has a few good sized love bites littered along his neck. Later, Derek knows that he'll bitch about them, but for now, Stiles has more pressing concerns. 

He raises his hips and drags his cock against Derek's belly, streaking it with pearly pre-come. Derek pulls back, sitting on his haunches and dragging Stiles' ass into his lap. 

“None of that,” he chastises. His voice is breathy, and he's obviously getting closer. “Be good for me.” 

“I have,” Stiles sobs. A fat tear slips down his cheek, and he gulps in air as if Derek's thrust are brutal, not slow. “I'm good, Derek, please, please, I'm a good boy, _please_!” 

“Almost,” Derek grunts. His pace is still slower than normal, but is a little faster than it had been before. “Just a little longer, Stiles. Fuck, almost....” 

At a brush against Stiles' prostate, he bucks and gasps. Derek grips his hips to pull Stiles back into his thrusts, since Stiles seems far past that point. He's crying now, his face bright red. His hands pull at the sheets underneath him and his wide eyes seek out Derek's gaze. 

“You can come, Stiles. You're so good, so good for me,” Derek pants. Stiles' hand immediately reaches for his cock, but Derek pulls it back. “Not like that. Just from this. Just from my cock.” 

“Can't,” Stiles sobs. “Gotta touch me, please, please!” 

Stiles continues to cry and plead, his head tossing from side to side. Derek's getting closer, but wants desperately for Stiles to come first. He can't always come untouched, though he has done it before. Derek's betting on the fact that Stiles hasn't come in over a week will allow him to come untouched this time. 

“Please!” Stiles wails. “Derek, please!” 

“Come for me,” Derek orders. “Come on, Stiles, be a good boy and come for me.” 

With a full-body shudder and a keening wail, Stiles lets go. Come splatters across his belly as he comes, and Derek finally grabs his cock, stroking him through the rest of the orgasm. 

Derek's grip on Stiles' hips grows tighter as he gets closer. His thrusts speed up, until finally, he groans and tips his head back as he comes, his hips stilling. A few lazy thrusts later, he pulls out and takes off the condom. 

Below him, Stiles has his eyes closed and his mouth hanging wide open. Derek ties off the condom before leaning down to press a kiss to Stiles' lips. His eyes blearily flutter open. 

“I'm going to get a rag and clean you up, okay?” Derek murmurs. “I'll only be a minute.” 

Stiles brow crinkles, and then he slowly nods. Derek presses one last kiss to Stiles' forehead before climbing off the bed. 

In the bathroom, he tosses the condom away and takes a washcloth from beside the sink. He runs it under some warm water, wrings it out, and sets it aside. There's a glass next to the faucet just for nights like this, when Derek doesn't want to leave Stiles alone while he goes to the kitchen. He fills it halfway with cold water before he heads back into the bedroom. 

Stiles is exactly where Derek left him, starfished across the bed with his unfocused gaze on the ceiling. Derek sets the glass on the nightstand and starts to wipe down Stiles' belly. Stiles' bleary gaze turns to Derek, and a lazy smile is stretched across his face. Derek chuckles. 

“You're floating, huh?” he murmurs fondly. He tosses the washcloth towards the hamper and climbs back onto the bed with Stiles. He helps Stiles sit up, has him drink half of the water, and then settles them comfortably against the bed. Stiles curls immediately into Derek's side, a funny grin still on his face. 

“You were so good for me.” Derek runs his fingers through Stiles' hair and scratches his nails lightly against Stiles' scalp. “So good for me, waiting like that. I was so proud of you.” 

Stiles sighs. “Wanna do it again,” he slurs. 

“You weren't that into the idea before,” Derek replies easily. Stiles shivers, and Derek pulls a blanket up around them. “You thought it was an awful idea, making you wait like that.” 

“Was worth it. Had a magic orgasm.” 

Derek laughs, full and deep. “Did you now?” he says. “I gave you a magic orgasm. I think that's a new one.” 

Stiles grumbles something back and slaps his hand over the general area of Derek's mouth. 

“Gotta sleep now,” he hushes. “Shh. Love you.” 

Derek smiles and nuzzles the top of Stiles' head, laughing easily when Stiles tries to bat him away. 

“Love you, too,” he replies at last. He drops one last kiss on the top of Stiles' head before closing his eyes and settling down to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> I want to read a multi-chapter fic so bad, but I just can't come up with a plot I like :/
> 
> Visit me on [tumblr](http://deputyparrish.tumblr.com/)!
> 
>  
> 
> If you enjoyed this fic, please leave a comment or kudos! Takes a second, means a lot :)


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